


In My Head, In My Heart

by Nessavanator



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessavanator/pseuds/Nessavanator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Trespasser - a cure with a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Head, In My Heart

The spirit amulet coursed the energy of the veil through her.

Dorian grimaced at the sound, the bone cracking as it grew. The wet sound as muscle and tissue chased the growth from the elbow of the former inquisitors stump of what was left after her arm was taken from the destruction of the anchor.

At least it was just her forearm.

The elf could contain the pain no longer and gave a whimper of a yell. Slamming her right fist on the table before her. The Iron Bull muttered an oath, and gripped the beam of ceiling in the basement of a magisters mansion. Their refuge for a time.

“Scream all you like, our current benefactor has done… much more it seems,” Dorian meant to jest, but his keen eyes spotted torture devices hastily hidden in corners and covered by ill fitting crates.

Likely for the people that have been defecting from Tevinter in droves. The silent arrival of the former inquisitor seemed almost a blessing, if magisters would believe such things. They didn’t like the order of things unbalanced. An elven rebellion would do just that.

Tears streamed down the brave woman's face as she arched, and twisted against the pain as her limb regrew itself to match the years and experiences as her right arm. The synchronous stone could only do small limbs, but it took much of their coin, and persuasion to have acquired it the months they had been across the Tevinter border. The messenger had mentioned many could not handle the regrowth effects and many stopped before the process was complete. Or did not survive the pain of the process in itself.

Krem put a bottle of strong Tevinter spirits in front of Ellana. “Drink this,” he said with a grim nod, “it won't make it feel better, but at least the burning throat, and the cloudy head will allow you a few moments of forgetfulness.”

Her big green eyes looked up at the charger with a desperate gaze. Iron Bull pulled out the cork, and took a swig before holding the bottle to the elf's mouth until she sputtered the magisters whiskey all over herself.

Eventually, with enough drink, and enough physical exertion gone through her, Ellana mercifully passed out, her arm splayed out before her, an enigma to itself as it continued to slowly return to the way it was before the conclave.

Iron Bull brought her to her small room, once a servants quarters.

Dorian checked on her later, and exited the room after a short time. Concern pinching the features naturally more accustomed to mirth and merriment. “She… she’s running a fever,” he gave a hollow chuckle. “I cannot heal her while the amulet is functioning.”

Leliana snapped her fingers at a nearby urchin, who jumped, knowing what she would request. “We did not come this far to see her lost to illness,” she said coolly, but the harshness of her words did little to overlay the concern her stance now took. Body turned in the direction of the room, nose wrinkled in insult at the thought of their leader anything but the epitome of health.

“I will go inquire to any alchemists in the area that would be sympathetic to our cause,” she said in a quiet tone, that was as subtle as the edge of a blade. Her followers eyes widened, and a few followed in her footsteps without hesitation, despite her orders.

They weren’t just soldiers of the nightingale, they were her disciples.

After 2 days of Ellana’s eyes not opening, and her body wracked with fever, Dorian resorted to drastic measures. Downing enough poison to nearly kill himself, he leaned his back against the inquisitors bed, and a note by his side hoping someone would see them both in time.

On the verge of death, and in the depth of a dream, Dorian entered the fade effortlessly. Focusing all his mana he sought the beacon that was Solas, the flicker of magic he recalled effortlessly from fighting by apostates side. The false apostate, he reminded himself.

What he did not expect was the presence of him so strongly in the entire fade itself. What should have been a needle in a haystack was a near visible path to the one he sought. Not to mention the fade… appeared different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but would not scrutinize the place of his nightmares. He had a purpose, and she was the only reason he was in this literal godforsaken place.

He began calling out to the elvhen god, daring him to appear before he could find him. There would be no sneaking up on the one that could manipulate the very veil. The area around him morphed and shifted. Suddenly he was in a foggy garden with pillars and fountains in ruins around him. You could tell its beauty was once unsurpassed. Delicate greenery still stubbornly grew, but only the heartiest in its rebellious spirit held fast in this dimension.

He heard a woman's voice, calling out amid weeping. Turning to it, he saw Ellana, dressed like a goddess in delicate silks that wound around her gentle curves, in a pale green color that would be a perfect reflection of her remarkable eyes.

Her auburn hair falling just past her shoulders was loose curls that he had rarely seen outside of her assassin rogue ponytail. She looked positively beautiful, and his heart sighed knowing the man she would have loved to look this way for would never appreciate it fully.

“She is so beautiful,” he heard that man's voice whisper, and Dorian was no longer alone. 

Dorian never admitted the pain of the apostates betrayal. The fact that the mage god had only verified the continued suspicions of mages left unchecked. The fact that despite them being of different worlds, they were both outcasts of their respective societies. Kindred in that. 

“There you are Solas… or rather… the divine Solas? Or do you prefer ‘the maker’?” Dorian said in an amused tone, tinged with venom.

The elf wore armor now, glistening with a metal that moved nearly fluid instead of rigid. But the sad smile on his face is was captured Dorian’s further words. “Dorian… it’s good to see you. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to miss you as much as I have.” He chuckled softly, but turned back to the weeping lady elf in earnest. Gripping his hands into tight fists.

“Do you think she doesn’t feel you close like this?” Dorian’s voice was thick with emotion. He wanted to shake the god before him. Make him see what he was doing, and who he was doing it to. “She has no relief even in her dreams. Could you not lie to her as you had to all of us?”

Solas turned, face contorted a moment in rage, then falling into despair. “I… cannot…” His tone was bitter, but he didn’t waste time looking at the Tevinter which stunned him.

“You love her this deeply, and can hurt her this badly?” Dorian’s voice caught as he put a hand on the elf's shoulder. He stiffened a moment under the weight of the man's hand, then sagged.

“Yes,” he whispered, and his face softened as he watched Ellana look about her. Her usually strong features full of grief, of pain. “Because I cannot let go… because I am selfish… because she is the only one I have ever loved in all of her lifetimes.”

Dorian had questions, so many questions, but this was his opportunity. “She’s dying,” he said, and felt the jerk in the god's body, as he stiffened at his words. “She needs you now, or she’s not going to make it.”

Solas raised his shoulders, his face expressionless, but his eyes sparked with the power and magic within him. The turmoil in him. They flashed and suddenly the gloomy garden grew to life, light shined in, flowers grew, the fountains spurted to life.

Ellana looked about her in numb wonder, but instead of taking in the wonder of her world, she sighed, falling onto her side, pulling her knees to herself. Squeezing her eyes shut.

“She doesn’t want this!” Dorian exclaimed, “you’re showing her you're here, but refusing to see her still? Do you think that will make her any more willing to fight?”

Solas flashed his eyes in anger at the mage, whirling on him in a moment of unrestrained emotion. “What would you have me do? Go to her? Lie to her once more? Give her false hope?” he nearly yelled, and it was then the fear, his weakness truly revealed. “I can’t hurt her again. Not like that. Not again.”

Dorian gripped the armor that burned his fingertips, “for all the omnipotence you are, your very fear is her pain? She will only ever love you, you damned fool. Which means you will always be hurting her in your rejection. ” He backed up, staring at the burned flesh of his hand, then back towards the inquisitor in her . “She is as big a fool as you… more so as she is going to die for it.”

Dorian had nothing left to say, and either he would die beside his friend or he would awaken to watch her die, he would not let her suffer alone any further. Stepping forward, he was cut off as the elf suddenly strode forward. Pressing his lips together, and eyes widened in unrepressed hope, Dorian backed into the shadows of the garden.

 

The sound of birds made Ellana’s ears twitch, but she didn’t look about her at the gift of the fade he bestowed her. Hours, lifetimes she lay in the desolate garden alone. What was the point of it all? If he would he there, but not here. Her cursed heart a shame, a burden. She was so tired of the hollow pain of it. Of searching for him in her dreams, always feeling his presence, but in no direction could she go to bask in it. He would not have her.

“Damn your fountains and your garden.” She whispered, “take it all… give me a moment. Let me see you once more before I die… let me know it wasn’t all a lie.” She whimpered.

She felt the cold seeping in even here, it was harder to breathe. Her body was failing, and her spirit fading. She looked at her hand, the one where her mark had once been, the one she had suffered so much to have again. It flickered, it faded, and she felt a course of fear flash through her.

She was under a spell, staring at her hands as the spirit essence began to claim them.

Then he was there, crouched before her, a smile on his face both apologetic, and loving.

Her fading hands reached out, touching his face, “you’re real,” she breathed, and he opened his mouth to speak but her own was pressed on his without a thought, without the anger, without the despair. This moment completed her. 

His hands hesitated, then despite his better judgement he found them wrapped around her as they lay in the fade garden. No words spoken, only actions, sensations. His magic pouring into her, healing her beyond the amulet's power. Advancing its progression to completion. Forcing her fever to break.

“Stop!” She cried, feeling herself slipping to wakefulness.

Solas cupped her face, wiping a tear from her cheek endearingly. “My love, my vhenan, I will never stop loving you.” He kissed her forehead, then her mouth once more. “If prayers are answered, I pray that we will be together once again. But not like this. You must live…”

He tried to pull away but Ellana wrapped him in a hug, holding him tightly around his neck. “Please,” she said, hundreds of words, in the single one spoken aloud. She took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of him, the feel of his warmth against her cheek. The comfort in his arms encircling her waist as he held her tight.

“Don’t leave me,” she spoke in the small room in Tevinter, her cold hand held tight in a warm one. Glancing over, Dorian was there. Eyes drowsy, and countenance shaken, it didn't matter. His efforts brought his dear friend back. He would not let her see his exhaustion. He would be there to hold her small form, letting her cry. He did all he could to hide his relief in her sorrow and the strength of her sobs. She was back. The two arms that clutched at him were strong once more.


End file.
